Bloodline
by The Legend of Derpy
Summary: Daisy never really loved Luigi. It was that rich Mario bloodline she so relished above all. Waluigi had known that, and yet, he had coveted her from afar. Come closer, my dears. Escape the cold of the night, take a seat on the nearest bar stool, and listen as I weave the tale of Waluigi in your ears and heart. Rated T for language. On hiatus.
1. An Introduction to my Shattered Heart

Here I stand on this wooden stage, watching, waiting, crying silently as my heart shatters slowly. The pieces slip on the plywood below me, making me an emotional train wreck and probably embarrassing _you_ even further. I was never the man for you, we all knew, but hearing the words slip from your perfectly reddened lips made everything worse, little miss princess. I never wanted to admit the fact to myself, but you just rubbed my love in my face, in front of your friends, family, possibly the whole Mushroom Kingdom. They were but one giant face, watching, waiting, commenting loudly on what I had just done. The only friendly face I saw in the crowd was Wario who, for once, had stopped chewing on his garlic clove and was staring in disbelief at me. He actually wore something resembling- believe it or not- _sorrow _on his face, like it was his fault I had been put through this.

It was, in a way. But I refuse to let him take the fall for this. I was the one who had made the desicion to talk to you in the first place, right? It was a mistake, thinking about it. Perhaps if I hadn't, none of the troubles currently unfolding would be happening. We'd continue the party, and you'd sit with your sweetheart, holding hands and giggling like you'd just won the grand freakin' lottery. But even so, my heart would still be breaking in two, watching this little happy gathering, so maybe it wouldn't of made such a difference.

I stood on the stage, the light above beating on my back like a drum, as your heavily make-upped eyes fluttered to Luigi cautiously. You probably wanted him to do something, right? Jump up, save the day, take you away from the awful Waluigi like Mario was always doing with Peach. She would be in danger, the priss, stupid enough to allow herself to be captured again. Mario, the glorified hero, would come smashing through Bowser's hideout, defeating the firebreating brute and would save his darling. You wanted that, didn't you? A hero to save you from the likes of turtles and evil enchanters. But if this fool couldn't even save you from the fright of Waluigi, then what good was he? The truth is princess, no one will ever look upon you seriously, not even your own groom, for you live in the shadow of the all-powerful Peach. Nobody cares about that small little kingdom you supposedly rule. But that nobody? It could of been at least a population of one person- It could of been me, the one who cared. I could of cared about you more than any Luigi could, could of even ignore Peach's rule, her mere _existence_ if only you had given me the key to your heart. Do you think Luigi cares? Do you think he knows about the kingdom of yours? I bet he couldn't even name it. Sarasaland, my dear. That's what it is called. And also, unlike Luigi, I could of cared for the people of your kingdom, if in fact you actually have a kingdom, and it wasn't all just gossip. Mario claims he's visited there once. But how should we know if he's telling the truth? I mean, he did supposedly save you once from danger, all those years ago. Maybe the idea of a hero saving you entered your head after he rescued you from koopa knows what. And not being able to snag the hero himself, you bombared all of your love onto Luigi, the next best thing. For all I know, you may not even truly love him, and his bloodline is all you're after.

All I know is, you certainly don't love me.

To any outsiders listen in on my tale, do not fret. Sit down, and attend to the tale of one heartless woman, a green-clad man, a planned, mechanical love, heartbreak, and me, Waluigi, trying to make sense of it all. My end starts at the mere beginning, and for such a cliche line, it holds true to my tale. Sit down, my dears. Stories are warmth in a world so cold.

_AN: I'm planning on only updating this series when I run out of ideas for what to write, as I want to focus my attention on my other Mario fic, "Amongst the Stars". However, this idea popped into my head and would not let go. I mean, I don't even know why I of all people have decided to write this. I hate Waluigi. Maybe this story can change things for me. Enjoy!_

_Hopefully, you guys understand my tendency to write short stories and update often. _


	2. What the Stage Held

Jump back ten years, princess, when we were younger, much younger indeed. I? Just a small, stringy pale lad, no meat on my bones, no less muscle. You? A beautiful princess by the name of Daisy. Some things never change throughout our years, do they? Of course, I didn't know you yet, none of us in the fair Mushroom Kingdom did. Sarasaland was a place not even the brainiest geographer in the Kingdom had ever heard of, and it was obviously either too unimportant to appear on our maps or we thought the Mushroom Kingdom to be too important to include any other map. Either way, we didn't know there existed a princess other than our soft hearted Peach. In case you don't understand, good, sweet, Daisy, that is sarcasm. You don't get a lot of things, do you? Like how ripping out a man's heart at your wedding celebration can inflict serious damage on one's well being.

But, hey, we aren't even up to that part yet, are we? Oh, how I am just dying to re-live that scene. Sarcasm again, my sweet. Are you starting to understand? Good. Because in case you haven't noticed, this entire story is three parts heartbreak, one part sarcasm, and half part garlic.

All we simple folk knew is that the valiant Mario had gone running off again to save an unknown woman. Peach, as one could assume, was jealous from the tips of her toes from that ridiculosly large forehead of her's, and who could blame her? Not for her forehead, of course, I mean for her eventual, flaming jealousy. She had spent so much time carving that Pauline girl out of Mario's heart and placing her own name inside of it, and some other possibly more attractive priss was going to take that away from her? Not a chance. Not much she could do about it, though. Peach will forevermore be nothing but the eye candy damsel in distress in anyone's eyes.

Well, I can assure you that we were all chewing our fingernails to the stubs, waiting for our precious Mario to come home unscathed. Oh, how we prayed for the savior of the Mushroom Kingdom to return with glory! And due to some twist in fate, he came back earlier than usual- much earlier, really. It took a while to save Peach, like, say, five weeks to two monthes, about. I guess Mario had seen all of your captor's tricks before by Bowser's evil hand, my dear Daisy, for he returned with you in hand within a week. If, in fact, as I've sure I've mentioned countless times before, if your kingdom really existed and you had been captured. As ritual toward some unspoken rule for heroes, the toads threw a grand party for Mario's safe arrival home, and anyone who was anyone was invited.

I don't know if you've guessed by now, but I'm not anyone who is anyone.

Well, as you'd probably expect from a dirty leech such as myself, I came to the festival anyway. It wasn't as if armed guards stood entry toward the dirt path leading to town square, and if there were, I'm sure I could find a way around them. Mushrooms in suits of armor? Give me a break. There's quite a simple reason Peach keeps getting captured, really. I'm just suprised none of these idiots whom live in her castle realize it, lest of all Toadsworth. No one noticed my presence (as usual), for they were too focused on this stage, this giant wooden stage in the middle of town square. What was on that thing, you ask? Well, princess, you probably know, but at the moment, I truly could of cared less. My thoughts usually do not linger upon mysterious stages for too long when food is in my line of vision. I had already slithered covertly to the snack table and was stuffing my face with twenty different types of bread, crumbs doing somersaults from my mouth. How can one create more than twenty different types of bread? And yet, there were twenty types, all laid on the table, and the names of so many more came running into my head: irish soda bread, corn bread, italian bread (a personal favorite), rye bread, pita. See, I only include this rather pointless food disussion to really drive home the fact that what that wooden stage held, that precious cargo on it, was of no importance to me. A mistake, really. The person on thid stage proved to be a most important factor in this tale. The food was delicious, specially catered by the Kingdom's best cooks, but my attention did not hold upon the flavor, no, it was like the fact that I was getting free food that really grabbed me.

I turned around after virtually emptying the snack table with a newly arrived Wario who, by the way, may not seem like the most friendly guy, but was truly my best "friend". Perhaps this turn was by some cruel twist of fate by the karma gods, those bastards. I saw something on the stage that night, princess, that grabbed me more than ten years worth of free food could.

It was you, newly arrived in my life.


	3. Of None Importance

_To my lovely little anon reviewer: We call this website FANfiction for a reason. In the future, please give me an actual review instead of "OMG OF COURSE THEY LOVE EACH OTHER! GEEZ!" How dare I write a fic outside of the usual, canon Luigi and Daisy pairing? I'm a monster. Don't look at me, I'm awful! I'M BEING DIFFERENT FROM ALL THOSE OTHER COOKIE CUTTER LUIGI AND DAISY FICS! No offense, ThatNintendoFangirl. That wasn't a shot at you. I also suggest you read my fic before writing a review, Mr. FFWS._

_Thank you, _

_-LoD._

Well, what happened after I saw your face really is of no importance to you, princess, and I doubt you'd care to hear my account of events after my heart decided to do somersaults in honor of your face. The word "Shakespeare" played on my dry lips, you ignored my beckoning calls of want as I tried to capture your precious attention away from Luigi (perhaps he was going through the same ordeal as me?), and Mario ended chasing me and Wario out of this little social gathering as you watched me with what I assumed to be mock interest. Then again darling, this entire story is really of no importance to anyone, for we all know how it ends. Not with me dancing in the aisles with you in the crook of my arm. No, more like running away from your celebration party into the seedy at best local bar, writing this letter to you and probably never sending it, weaving my tale of heartbreak into any bar regualr ready to hear it. You know how our story ends, and I can't even say the end is the start of the beginning. Cliche lines, as you might of noticed, run rampant in my story, and that's the only line I wish to hold true to this story. Karma Gods, however, are inglorious bastards to the poor Waluigi, and instead have closed the door to your heart. Luigi was given a skeleton key. I will remain locked out. Why would I get the girl in the end? Villians never win, their will to live only powered by the fact that they might obtain their only wish, least they die alone, unsatisfied by their want. For some of us, that happens to be world domination, a cliche and overused idea. How could one possibly rule a planet so vast? It's madness. Some want the pleasure of taking down the hero, watching his body hit the floor with a melodic thud. I? I just wanted the chance to prove that villians could prove themselves virtuous, that a villian could sastify his wild heart.

I just wanted you. A crazy, unrealistic thought. And I know what one might think about me, and my gracious personality. "Oh, Waluigi, you simply must not say that! You are no villian in my eyes!" I wish it was you, speaking those words in that light, flowerish voice of yours, but it isn't; it never will be.

But guess what? I am. I am that villian. I tried to ruin a marriage for my own selfish reasons. That alone could speak quite lowly of my reputation and logic. I could be wrong, Daisy. You could actually love the brother of Mario. Or maybe you love the idea of Mario's brother. I'll never know, for certainly, after that night, it would take about two years for you to notice me once again.

And I never forgot about you for a second of that time.

Christmas time, oh, isn't it wonderful? Snowflakes rain from the sky and the schools are shut down, christmas goose, roasted and stuffed, sits in the dining room, presents all around for little snotnosed brats who honestly don't deserve them. In my thoughts, it's always been an overmarketed holiday, and there's no good in it expect for the fact that our savior Jesus Christ was born. Except, if Christ was truly born, I'm thinking he'd be lending me a helping hand in my current shabby state of affairs. In different news, ever wonder why I held such a hate toward mistletoe? You are about to find out, princess. It's the only thing that may of hurt as much as your denial of me at the wedding party, involving one italian, one large Christmas party (one that I got an invite to, for a change), and a night of realized love.

Realized love for me? Of course not.


	4. Mario Makes an Offer I Can Refuse

_AN: Sorry this took so long! School just ended and I've been really busy. However, since I'm on vacation now, I can get to updating my stories now._

* * *

Toads in festive cherry colored gowns and coal tinted suits flooded the castle grounds in a flurry of activity and movement, the winter moon illuminating their faces like a flashlight. I ran past them with an envolope in hand, perhaps knocking a few down, not courteous enough to turn my head and apologize. A few, perhaps in their shock, gossiped wildly about my presense to whomever might be near them, and a guard even tried to block entry to the castle of Peach itself. If I had wanted to, I probably could of pushed that spotted fool to the side and made a mad dash for the snack bar, stuffing my skinny figure with as many bread rolls as possible before that wonderful red fat bastard I'm proud to call my cousin Mario would kick me out of the event. Of course, that would not be neccesary that night, as I flashed my manilla invitation to the guard before, yes, making a mad dash for the snack bar, stuffing my skinny figure with as many bread rolls as possible.

Now, one can hardly expect, what with my obviously spotless reputation, that I could spend much time at this little party without someone approaching me. Just my luck that the man that first approached me had put on the pounds, wore red, and went without a plunger hand ever since his big break as a princess saver. In other words, Mario was waddling my way like a penguin.

To be clear, all those sitcoms where the families get together perfectly are complete bullshit, and the writers ought to be shot. No family is without its black sheeps, namely me and Wario in the proud Mario family. That's our last name, by the way, seeing as I don't know how much you really know about your husband to be. My skeptism has gotten to the point where I doubt you know your own fiancee's last name. _Mario._ Who the hell decided to name Mario himself? I don't know, but whoever did so lacked much of an imagination. I have quite a vivid one, you see. I actually created this little fantasy in my head in which I believed I had a fighting chance to be with you. To be clear, my relationship with my cousins has never been great, and especially after the little scene I pulled at your reception, mine with Luigi is shot.

Not that I really care.

He leaned against the snack table in a nonchantly way, took a bread roll, not a word said as of the moment. As he chewed his eyes searched me, and he threw the remaining bread in the air and back in the palm of his gloved hand, catching it every time. His body movement just screamed _Hey, it's all good, I can be cool too._

"Enjoying yourself?" he smiled brightly. I winced. His teeth could challenge the yellow of the sun, his breath being no better.

"Fuck off."

The smile off his saggy face dropped, and one could see the mechanics of his brain working quickly to change approach tactics. Cheer was replaced with a long winded sigh. His elbow dug into the white tablecloth as he shiffted his body to a slanted position.

"Not a great way to treat the guy who sent you an invitation to this party, Waluigi."

I raised an eyebrow in interest. "So it was you who sent that to me?

"Well, yes. I mean who else would want to give you a-" Mario caught himself, stopping short mid sentence. He realized his error and must of expected me to be offended, though it was the truth. Who would bother? Little children probably saw my house and ran off screaming from the mere stench, no less full grown men. Mailmen did not even dare to approach my doors. Mario probably had to wear a clothespin over his nose to leave an invitation in my mailbox, or paid some unlucky mailsmen extra to do the task.

"Waluigi understan- I mean, it's understandable. I mean, it wasn't like Waluigi ex- damn it, I expected Daisy to deliver it or something." I muttered, clutching my head in my hands.

See, I have this awful habit of talking in third person when I get nervous. Mario didn't exactly make me quiver in my shoes, but something about your name made me shiver in what could either be love or misguided affection. To the common man, they might seem to be the same thing, but to the man who finds himself in the thorny trap that is love, the difference is obvious. Do you know that feeling you get when you use "God" in a non-religion related sentence and upon remembering that one cannot use His name in vain, you get that nervous feeling of guilt? That Saint Peter might hold you up at the gates for using the name many a time impracticly? When you feel like that perhaps you should apologize to God yet you know you'll just do it again, and that aching feeling in your stomach's pit seems to take a grip at your gut? Your own spot in heaven is questioned just because of a simple word.

Perhaps that is the feeling I got, that maybe I jepordized a chance of being in your heart when I mentioned you.

"Why Daisy, if you don't mind me asking?"

My hands released my hands. "Oh, erm, Waluigi isn't sure. Her name is just the first that came to Waluigi's head." I didn't even bother to correct myself this time. Damn, I was actually cowering in fear from a name. See, I hadn't actually seen you for two years. Every knew you must be alive, yet no one had actually seen you. Perhaps this is truth in itself that Sarasaland existed, for where could you of gone during that time? I still hold my doubts, however.

He nodded, obviously accepting my excuse. "Have you started to wonder yet why I invited you here in the first place?"

"There's no room in my mind for explanations when food is afoot."

Mario shook his head and laughed, making me wonder what he found so funny in my reply. "Some things never change, do they? When we were children, you, me, Wario, and Luigi would play house, remember? Sure, looking back, it was a bit odd, seeing as we were all boys, but..." He turned his head and looked up to the stars, lost in memories.

"Well, Luigi would always take position of Mama, you know. Mama Luigi, we'd call him. And once he was done doing our laundry and washing the dishes and doing the shopping, well, he'd bake. Cookies were 'made', to be exact, and though he claimed to make them himself, we all knew that he'd sneak into the house and accept cookies from the adults to bring to us. No cookie in the world 'bakes' in twenty seconds, you know." Mario paused for a minute to chuckle, leaving me to dive deeper into my murky memory to indulge in my childhood.

"You'd distract us momentarily, leading us out of the yard to show us a frog you claimed to find, and leave us behind to go to the house. By the time we returned, you had eatten roughly twelve cookies and were bursting with crumbs."

The only useful piece of information I got from this was the memory of chocolate chip cookies on my tongue.

"There must be a reason you brought this to my attention." Mario caught the glare in my eye, and paid attention to my every movement. "Do you take me for a fool? There must be some reason you're dragging this up now."

"Waluigi, no one takes you for a fool." Mario swallowed.

"You've spent half of our adult life ignoring myself and Wario. Hating us, even. There must be some reason you've decided to suddenly warm up to us."

"Look, it was wrong of me, okay? I've made mistakes before regarding you and Wario. I'm not some spotless, glorious hero, I'll admit."

"That would be the understatement of the century."

"Waluigi, haven't you ever wanted to be a part of a family?"

Well, that statement shook me. If anything, I expected the guy to ask me for money.

"Excuse me? I must of had a loose chunk of ear wax clogging my hearing." I replied, pretending to pick at my ear.

"Waluigi, we have a small family. Peach has a small family. It doesn't make sense to shun the very few people I have left. Don't you want to be with us more often? It must get lonely for you, and don't lie, you know it does."

"Ah, so Peach put you up to this?"

He shook his head. "You're impossible to deal with, you know that?"

"Not only do I know, I wear the feeling with pride."

Defeat stung his eyes. "Look, you can get back to me on this. I'm not sure, but I think Bowser might be planning something big-and don't give me that look, I'm being serious!- so might be out of town for a while. You know, on princess buisness." Mario winked as if it was some big joke between us, and it took all my willpower not to roll my eyes. I can be somewhat decent, much to your suprise.

Hard to hear that from a guy who crashed your wedding celebration, but hey.

He started to edge away from the table inch by inch, then did a huge backflip, landing perfectly. This drew a few claps from the crowd, who were amazed that a stomach that huge could also get huge air.

"Think about, Waluigi. Oh!" A thought suddenly slipped into his head, and as he started to make his run through the crowd, he shouted after me. I had gotten to thinking, and perhaps Mario wasn't all that bad. Sure, he could stand to loose some weight, but he seemed to be good at heart. Something I should despise, yes, but perhaps it was time to change my ways.

"Daisy is here! Tonight! I just thought you ought to know since you mentioned her and all."

He waited all that time to tell me that? Forget everything I said. He's a bastard.


End file.
